Twelvetide
by Totschafe
Summary: Jamie Bennett looks forward to Christmas more than most kids do. However, it's the countdown to it that makes him more excited than anything else. Though, it's not so much the food or the presents that he anticipates, so much as it's knowing that each day, he gets to see a certain snow spirit.
1. Day One

Hi, everyone! I thought it would be fun to make a set of drabbles leading to Christmas, kind of like a fanfic Advent calendar. So, here it is! I'm going to try to post a new fic for each day until Christmas, but if I miss one, I'll fit two in one day to make it up. c:

This will probably range between Jamie's childhood all the way to him being in college, and I'm going to try to keep it relatively light-hearted. There's going to be some degree of shipping, but that really is up to chance since I'm not even sure what I'm going to be writing just yet. :'D So, if you're not a fan of Jack x Jamie, I apologize. Lucky for you, if you aren't, some of these drabbles won't be shippy at all. c: I'll put a warning up at the beginning, just in case.

Finally, the title! Twelvetide generally refers to the twelve days _after_ Christmas, but in this case, it refers to the twelve days leading to it. I just liked the name too much to waste.

Anyway, I don't own ROTG or any of the characters. Not doing this for profit, etc., etc. Just doing it for fun!

* * *

**Day One**

Christmas at the Bennett household is a pretty big deal. It didn't used to be, once upon a time, but recent events have kind of made the Christmas spirit a little more poignant. Then again, after seeing Santa Claus in the flesh (Jamie quickly learns that isn't his name, but it's hard to break old habits, so what the heck, right?), Jamie and Sophie begin something of like a freakish Christmas crusade.

It starts a little like this. The two of them struggle through Thanksgiving, since that's all just dressing up and smiling at relatives that you see maybe twice a year. Yeah, the food's great and all, but over the past few years, Thanksgiving has become just another obstacle in what Jamie dubs 'The Great Holiday Gauntlet'. Then, it's Friday, and while Jamie's mother and aunt go out shopping that day (coming back a little distressed, and on one memorable occasion, bruised), Jamie and Sophie start their planning.

If they're lucky, it's already cold outside by then. Then, with a little help from their father, they begin hauling down Christmas decorations from the attic. They won't get the tree until December actually gets a little more underway. So, mostly, it's decorations for the outside of the house. There's strands of lights and little lawn sculptures in the shape of reindeer and present boxes. There's two artificial wreaths, a couple window clings, and, Jamie's personal favorite, gigantic snowflakes that light up and hang from the awning of their porch.

After that, it's a matter of putting everything up. They have a Christmas tradition of turning on the radio to what ever station is designated the twenty-four hour Christmas station, and decorating while it plays. Then, they put up stickers, wreaths, bells, and what ever else they can find. By the time Jamie's mom comes home, the house is typically halfway to becoming a venerable Fantasyland lookalike. It never fails to impress her.

By the end of the week, after the rest of the decorations are put up and Jamie and Sophie start on their arts and crafts projects (there will be no lack of popsicle sticks and macaroni glued to paper scattered around the house), things should be close to done until they get the tree. Though, in secret, Jamie likes to take it one step further. When all is said and done, he'll sit on his bed one night and wait.

And one bright morning, when the sun rises and the calendar reads December 12th, Jamie's plan comes to fruition. Along with all the lawn ornaments, flashing LED lights, and oversized Christmas tree bulbs hanging from the branches of the oak tree on their lawn, there's a blanket of shimmering, undisturbed snow on everything. Frost is curled into beautiful, ornate patterns on the windows of cars. Icicles hang down from awnings and gutters, as if they were meant to be there.

After all, the best Christmas decorations are sometimes the ones that you can't make yourself.


	2. Day Two

Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I've already gotten on this! You guys are absolutely amazing. ;w; It's making me even more excited to write the rest of this out!

I admit, this chapter is a little rushed, mostly because I had finals at college today. However, it's a lot longer than I expected it to be! I hope you enjoy it! c:

* * *

**Day Two**

When Jamie is a little older, he becomes a sort of Christmas tree connoisseur. It used to just be a matter of their parents taking them to some parking lot next to a contractor's building and picking one of those pre-cut trees. Not so much anymore. No, now, Jamie gets outright _picky_.

For half a week prior to the designated day when the family goes to get a tree, Jamie scours newspapers and websites for actual Christmas tree farms. Not parking lots or florists. He wants to go to a legitimate farm where the trees grow and aren't cut down until you say so. Then, he researches which tree is the absolute best, considering needle holding, needle softness, branch firmness, and every other tiny detail he can think of. In the end, it's the Balsam Fir tree that he decides is the best.

The day before they go to get the tree, Jamie clips a newspaper ad featuring a tree farm just north of Burgess and something about half prices on something, but Jamie doesn't care so much about that. He's done his research, and Three Hills Tree Farm and Gift Shop seems to be the most opportune. So, he goes downstairs after he gets ready for school, and as he and Sophie eat their cereal, he subtly sneaks the clipping across the table, where he knows his dad will sit later. It's a brilliant, cunning plan, he thinks. Jack would probably be proud of him for it.

However, when he gets in the car later, he's met with terrible news.

"Jamie, honey, you _do_ realize that tree farm is thirty miles away," his mom says. Well, at least she _saw_ the ad.

Immediately, he resorts to the power of whining. "But _moooommm_! They're cheap and they have all sorts of stuff and you can take a hayride to get your tree! That's gonna be so cool! Besides," he pauses. He cranks up the sheer power of the puppy dog eyes, of which he's trained in the art. "Don't you want me and Sophie to be happy?"

He can't help but grin when his mom sighs and rubs her forehead. For a long moment, she's quiet, and there's only the sound of the engine and Sophie humming to herself in the backseat. Then, she sighs again. "Fine, but just this once," she bargains. It's good enough for him.

-

The next day is Saturday, and as soon as Jamie and Sophie finish breakfast, they bundle up and get in the car. It's snowing lightly already, just a few loose flakes that gently sway in the wind before they hit the ground. As they drive, Jamie watches them with wide eyes. Although he can't see him yet, he's certain it's Jack's way of being excited, too.

Sophie kicks her feet back and forth on the booster seat next to him, and sings some kind of made-up song about ducks and bunnies. Jamie looks over conspiratorially at her, a grin stretching across his face. "Hey, Soph. If it keeps snowing all weekend, we might get a snow day!" he says.

Immediately, she breaks into a smile that's missing one tooth. "Snow day!" she echoes happily.

"Ah, I wouldn't bet on that," their dad says, sounding amused. "The weather report says it's supposed to be sunny tomorrow."

Sure, the weather report _says_ it, but if Jamie has any say in it (and he certainly does), there's a guaranteed snow day come Monday morning. So, he fakes disappointment, but privately winks at Sophie, who giggles and continues kicking her feet.

-

Three Hills Tree Farm is exactly what Jamie pictured. It operates out of a rustic red barn, which doubles as the gift shop. The trees stretch onward seemingly forever in each direction, with sections of certain trees marked with makeshift wooden signs. To Jamie and Sophie's delight, there is indeed a hayride, pulled by two enormous tan-colored horses. Sophie hops up and down and pulls on their mother's sleeve.

"Can we ride that? With the horsies? _Pleaaaassseee_?" she begs.

"I don't see why not," their mother responds with a smile. "But let's go get our tree first, okay?"

"Okay!"

As Sophie continues cooing over the 'horsies', their dad walks over to two men standing by a rack filled with hacksaws. Jamie follows him, and gapes at the chainsaw sitting by one of the men. Beside that is a tree shaker, which is running with a deep hum that makes the ground shake a little bit. While he stares at that, his dad rents one of the hacksaws, then has a quick conversation with one of the men who is wearing a Yankees hoodie. They joke for a second (mostly things Jamie doesn't quite understand) before his dad waves at them with a smile and walks back over to the girls.

"Alright, ready to go get the tree?" he says, mostly to Sophie.

"Yep, yep!" she cheers, and then begins to skip ahead of them, singing something about trees to the tune of 'Jingle Bells'.

Their mom chases after her, warning her not to get too far ahead. Jamie takes the opportunity to lay out something like a Christmas tree manifesto. "Okay, it's _gotta_ be a Balsam Fir. They don't lose their needles easy, and they have sturdy branches. We _need_ sturdy branches, right? And it has to be just the right height. Not too big, and not one of those wimpy ones. _Just_ right." He holds his hand up and pinches his finger and his thumb together for emphasis.

"Jamie, slow down there," his dad laughs, shaking his head. "We'll get the right tree. Don't worry about it."

He's a little worried, especially if it's a-god forbid-_spruce_. They certainly don't need Abby rolling around in dropped tree needles, let alone attacking tree ornaments on flimsy branches.

They walk by the pines, and their mom suggests a nice-looking Scotch Pine. It's nice, Jamie admits, but it's not the right one. Although it's right up there with the Balsam Fir in terms of collective score (and Jamie kept count), its needle sharpness was pretty awful. And after a quick test of running her hand down one of the branches, their mom admits with a pained hiss that yeah, it's a bit sharp.

So, after giving the thumbs-down to any of the White Pines ("Good, but their branches are flimsy," Jamie explains), Jamie manages to corral them toward the fir trees.

"Okay, tree expert," their dad says with a laugh. "Lead the way."

Jamie does so, darting between trees before he finds at least three rows of just Balsam Fir trees. However, some are too tall, others too short. One actually looks like it's missing half of it, somehow. After scouring the first two rows, he almost sighs in defeat. _Almost_.

That's because at the very tip of the third row is _the_ tree. It's not just _the_ tree because of its height (which is perfect), or how it looks in general. It's that the whole tree is delicately coated in light snow, just enough on each branch, as if it was made to look that way. In fact, when Jamie's mom rounds the corner to see what he's staring at, she gasps.

"Oh, it's so pretty," she says, and Sophie echoes her with a sing-song chant of 'pretty, pretty!'.

"This is it," Jamie affirms. He stops himself before he utters a 'thank you', because he knows who did this. So, instead, he smiles gratefully and mouths the words while his parents are looking over the tree. As if in response (though, not so much 'as if', as it is 'definitely'), the wind kicks up, causing some loose snow on the ground to fly through the air in a sparkling mist. Some of it gets caught in Sophie's hair, and she bursts into laughter.

So, after their dad gets in a rather impressive battle with a hacksaw, they get the perfect Christmas tree. Then, right on time, the hayride passes by them, the back of the wagon empty. The man driving the horses waves his hand at them, asking them if they want a lift.

-

Jamie considers the entire day a success. They even got apple cider after all was said and done. By the end of the day, the tree was put up in its stand, with the promise to decorate it the next day. Yet, even without the decorations, it looked perfect.

He sits in his room, a notebook balanced on his knees as he marks 'Christmas tree' off a list with a check mark. So, maybe he's pushing it a little bit with a to-do list, but that's the fun of it, honestly. It's hardly finished, though Jamie assures himself that there's plenty of time to fix that. In fact, one object on the list can be marked off right now.

Clambering off the bed, Jamie walks over to his window and looks outside. It's a clear night, without a single cloud in the sky. The stars shimmer as bright as they can, though the sight of a nearly full moon is far more impressive. With some effort, Jamie wrenches the window open, instantly being met with a rush of frigid air that causes him to shiver. He crosses his arms over his chest and peers outside, looking right and left for any sign of a hoodie-clad spirit.

Then, Jack appears right in front of Jamie's face, as if he just magically phased there. Obviously, he didn't, as after Jamie gets over his initial shock (which manifests as a loud gasp before he reels back and nearly falls over his bed), he sees that the spirit is just hanging upside-down from above Jamie's window. Jack snickers as he does an elegant flip and lands in Jamie's room, leaning on his staff. "Did I scare you?" he asks with a crooked grin.

"N-no!" Jamie stutters, quickly sitting back up and trying to compose himself.

Jack laughs, walking back over to the window and sitting on the edge of the windowsill. "Busy day, huh? I saw your tree's already up," he says, and the look on his face seems to say 'you're welcome' without him having to say a word.

"Oh, yeah!" Jamie exclaims, eyes brightening. "It was perfect. Like, just the right size, and the right kind, and... well, everything!"

The excitement is contagious, and Jack even finds himself getting a little giddy at the thought of it. "No problem, sport. Just trying to spread the holiday cheer a little. Though, seems like you're doing a good job of that on your own, honestly," he replies, lightly gesturing with his staff at the tiny replica of a Christmas tree sitting on Jamie's desk. "What's got you all in the spirit, anyway?"

"I dunno! I mean, I liked Christmas _before_ I met you guys, but it kind of just makes it cooler now! Like, now that I know Santa is this _super_ cool Russian guy with tattoos and huge swords and stuff!" Jamie attempts to explain, complete with wide, wild hand gestures.

Again, Jack laughs. It's a good explanation as far as he's concerned. He's even noticed that all the kids who were there the night they fought Pitch seem to be almost just as excited as Jamie. Though, Jamie certainly takes the 'Most Spirited' award, easily.

Then, Jamie pauses, a thought seeming to dawn on him. He leans forward on his bed, his expression growing a bit more serious, though with the edge of excitement still there. "Can I ask you a favor though?"

"Of course you can."

Immediately, Jamie reaches behind him to his end table, picking up his notebook and pen and tapping something on the page that Jack can't see. "Uh, can you make it a snow day on Monday? I'm not talking like just a foot or two."

"Full-tilt blizzard, huh?" Jack chances. He can see where this is going.

"Yeah!" Jamie replies, seeming a little relieved that Jack appears to be onboard with the idea. After all, that's Jack's job, or at least what he enjoys doing. Jamie learned shortly after meeting Jack that all the snow days he had ever had were Jack's doing, and once Jamie thought it over, he realized that there were a _lot_.

"I'll see what I can do," Jack says with amusement, reaching out to ruffle Jamie's hair.

The boy laughs and tries to smooth his hair out. By the time he looks back up, Jack's already gone, with a tiny trail of snowflakes following him out the window. It's to be expected, after all.

-

Sunday is sunny, just like Jamie's dad says. For Jamie's friends, all hope for a snow day seems to disappear. However, Sophie isn't disappointed in the least. She marches through the house wearing her hat and scarf, chanting the words 'snow day' with each step. Jamie can't help but smile when he sees his parents looking at each other while laughing and shaking their heads.

Monday morning, though, is a very different story indeed. The weather reports say it's a freak snowstorm, and that meteorologists are still puzzling over the new, bizarre weather pattern. All of Burgess is buried under nearly three and a half feet of snow, with icicles hanging from every awning and powerline, the streets covered in layers of snow and ice. Even by morning, it's still snowing, though it's been reduced to a steady downfall of light snow. Naturally, the schools are closed in several counties, and it takes every bit of self-control Jamie has not to burst into laughter when he sees his parents staring at the weather report in complete confusion.

"Looks like Jack Frost was a bit busy," his mom says, tilting her head as she sips at her coffee.

Jamie wants to tell her that she has no idea how right she is.


	3. Day Three

First, thank you for all your lovely reviews! I've been so excited every time I get the little notification in my e-mail, and even happier when I see all the good responses I've been getting. ;w; Hugs for you all! Also, if anyone has any suggestions on what Christmas/winter funtimes could be the subject for future chapters, I'd love to hear them! c:

And secondly, yes, Jamie gets a little older with each chapter. In this one, he's roughly twelve years old. This is also the point where I'm going to have to start digging into my secret arsenal of ROTG headcanon. Mwahaha. :'D

* * *

**Day Three**

Even though it's getting closer to Christmas break, Jamie can't believe the amount of homework he has. It's enough to make him believe that deep within the recesses of his middle school, the teachers get together in some dark, dismal room, cackling while they discuss ways to make their students more miserable. What ever plans they've come up with are working with horrifying success. Sure, Jamie understood that with a new school and a new grade, there was going to be some more work that was a little harder than what he was used to. He just didn't expect _this_.

His calendar reads December 14th, nearly a full week until break starts. It seems like it can't come fast enough, especially with his oversized algebra textbook serving as a barrier.

"Two pages," he hisses through his teeth, sitting at his desk and staring down at the dreaded pages, filled top to bottom with equations. "Two _pages_. Who does this so close to Christmas anyway?"

"Ebenezer Scrooge?" a voice from behind him helpfully supplies.

Jamie whirls around on his chair, at least subduing a gasp this time. Jack sits on the edge of a low-lying dresser, aimlessly kicking his feet back and forth. Although Jamie makes a show of irritation, he can't help but feel outright delighted. "You need to quit doing that!" he scolds, attempting to mimic his mom's tone when she gets after him for something.

With a laugh bordering on a snort, Jack hops off the dresser, landing soundlessly on the floor. He walks over so that he's standing just behind Jamie's chair, peering over the boy's shoulder at the algebra book. He gives a low whistle, as if he's impressed. "Yeah, glad I don't have to do that," he says, and then pats Jamie on the shoulder. "Good luck."

In turn, Jamie scowls down at the equations. He can actually feel his eyes cross a little at the very sight of them, so he closes his book in disgust. "I can save those for later," he excuses.

"I thought the phrase was 'save the best for last'?" Jack says with a lopsided grin.

"I'll just convince myself I love algebra _so_ much that I can't wait to do it. Maybe I'll really trick myself," Jamie mumbles, leaning back in his chair.

Jack flops down on the bed beside the desk, settling himself against one of the pillows with a self-satisfied smirk. Of course he'd do this while Jamie was battling with the demons of homework! Or at least with the demons' tiny minions, since he's already seen what high schoolers have to do. He's dreading that day with his life.

"So, when's all this due, anyway?" Jack suddenly interjects, jolting Jamie out of his thoughts (which contained an imaginary demon dressed as his math teacher).

Even though he knows the date, he still picks up the corner of one of his worksheets where he wrote all of the due dates. "In two days," he says solemnly.

"And how much do you have to do?"

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off the self-scrawled note, and frowns. "Two pages of algebra equations, a worksheet in science, and I have to read a story for English. And I have to do my art project, but that isn't due until next week."

It's as if the proverbial light bulb goes off above Jack's head, and he sits up suddenly, his Tooth Fairy-adored grin lighting up his face. There's something a little mischievous in it as well, but that's normal. "How about a quick break?" he suggests, though his expression says there's really no room for argument.

In fact, it's exactly what Jamie wants to hear.

-

After sneaking out of the house (to which Jack claims credit for 'teaching his apprentice so well'), the two of them walk toward downtown Burgess. It's a calm, clear night, and even with the city's lights, there's hundreds of stars visible in the sky. For a long while, they walk in silence, Jamie focusing on the puffs of vapor that appear before him as he breathes out. When he breathes back in, he feels a pleasantly cold tingling feeling in the depths of his lungs, and it makes him break into a grin.

Jack's walking in long, languid strides. His staff is balanced across the width of his shoulders, supported by one hand just barely hanging onto it. In contrast to his usual excited nature, he just looks as content as Jamie feels. His eyes travel back and forth, from street lamps to patches of snow on the sidewalk. When a dog barks in someone's yard, he perks his head up and smiles at it, as if it's the greatest thing he's seen all day.

"What was Burgess like?" Jamie suddenly asks. When Jack looks at him with one eyebrow raised in question, Jamie backpedals a little bit. "Like, a long time ago," he adds.

With a short laugh, Jack shrugs with one shoulder. "Depends on which 'long time ago' you're talking about. Like, the 20s? Or back when Abraham Lincoln was alive?"

"_Waaaay_ back," Jamie emphasizes, stretching his right arm out as if trying to mime a timeline.

"Uh, well, no power lines?" Jack says, gesturing upward at the stretch of black cables above their heads. Then, he shrugs again, this time with a lopsided smile on his face. "Not much of anything actually. Just a couple houses and stores."

"Cabins," Jamie corrects.

Jack looks at him with his head slightly tilted. "Hmm?"

"Cabins," he repeats. "We learned about that back in elementary school. Like, how Thaddeus Burgess built a cabin here? Our teacher said that all of the houses were cabins back then."

With a surprised-sounding laugh, Jack reaches over and ruffles the boy's hair, much to Jamie's dismay. "Okay, smart-aleck, they were _cabins_."

"So, did people speak with like 'thee', or 'ye olde', or whatever?" Jamie asks, his eyes growing wide with interest.

"Here? Definitely not. I mean, _some_ people talked like that, but they lived in other villages. Actually, people here didn't sound too different from people now, other than like, slang and that sort of stuff," Jack explains, gazing upward as he walks. Then, he glances back at Jamie, his smile quirking up a little more. "Why do you wanna know all of a sudden?"

It's not exactly something Jamie can explain without feeling embarrassed. Really, he just wants to know what Jack was like, since Jack's at least told him that he's been in Burgess for three hundred or so years, though he never really elaborated beyond that. Jack's still as much of a mystery as ever, but Jamie supposes that's kind of the territory that comes with being a spirit, or a guardian, or what ever Jack calls himself. So, instead of saying all of that, or really anything at all, Jamie simply picks at the sleeve of his coat, while staring down at the sidewalk, and says, "Just curious."

"Well," Jack replies, while walking with a little more spring in his step. "We're not out here for a history lesson. Besides, I thought you wanted to get away from school stuff for awhile?"

Jamie can't make an excuse for that, so he just nods.

"I have something in mind, then," Jack says, and all the mischief from before settles back into his expression as though it's natural.

-

They end up in the park that Jamie associates with the infamous sled ride that knocked out his tooth. It's late enough at night that no one's there. Most of the park is buried under a foot of snow, a good portion of it shoveled to the sides of the walkway, the rest of it pocked with footprints and pawprints. While Jamie walks down the pathway to the statue of Thaddeus Burgess, Jack does a rather impressive leap and ends up sitting on the bronze Thaddeus' shoulder.

"So, Jamie, you _really_ want a history lesson?" Jack asks playfully.

Jamie has the distinct feeling that no matter how he answers, Jack's going to do something gloriously ridiculous. So, naturally, he nods with the most excited smile on his face that he could muster.

Jack clears his throat and attempts to do his best impression of a low-voiced narrator, only to end up sounding suspiciously like North. "Back in _ye olde _days of Burgess, people had to work very hard in order to survive in the bitter climate of the Appalachian Mountains. In the year 1795, Burgess, though not yet named after the great man himself yet, was struck with a horribly bitter winter."

At that, Jack waves his staff over some of the snow at the base of the statue. A sudden wind kicks up the snow, causing it to burst into the air like a firework, only for the flurries made by it to fall back to earth in a glittering cascade. Immediately, Jamie bursts into laughter, turning around in circles and trying to take in the sight all at once. The streetlights catch the snowflakes, illuminating them in shades of bright orange and yellow, as if sparks are falling all around them.

Jack watches Jamie for a moment with a grin on his face before he hops back down to the walkway. "Then," he says, watching the remaining snow finally settle. "The people of Burgess began to construct their town out of _cabins_, which definitely _weren't_ houses."

He begins to move snow around using his staff, working some of it into a rough rectangular shape, which looks nearly five feet long and three feet across. Instantly, Jamie understands what the spirit is doing, and without one more second of hesitation, he grabs his own handful of snow and begins to pack it onto what will eventually be a snow fort. Of course, Jack is working at nearly three times Jamie's pace, but it's still just as fun, especially when Jack pauses for a moment to hurl a snowball at the back of Jamie's head when the boy has his back turned.

In the end, it takes them much more time than they figured it would take, what with the periodic snowball wars. However, they go back to Jamie's house completely satisfied with their work. As Jamie drags himself up the stairs to his porch, he feels Jack ruffle his hair up one more time before the spirit disappears in a flurry of wind and snowflakes. Jamie stands on his porch for a second, and then smoothes his hair out again with a large smile on his face.

-

The next morning, dozens of people in Burgess stand in the park, puzzling over what appears to be a gigantic and overly-ornate snow fort, complete with turrets and balconies. It's an elaborate prank, is what people ultimately decide.


	4. Day Four

Oh gosh, sorry this was late. D: I caught the cold from Hades the day after finals were done (how's that for kismet?) and I was laid up all of yesterday. So, like I promised, I'm going to attempt to fit two chapters into one day, which I hope I can do tomorrow. Thank you all for being so patient. ;w; You've also all been great with reviews, and I'm so happy this was well-received. If I could bake all of you cookies, I would!

So, this chapter is starting to border on some shippiness. This is more of a read-between-the-lines type, though. Next chapter, on the other hand, should be full of shippy goodness, mixed in with a healthy dose of fluff. Like, really. Mindless, cavity-inducing fluff, ahoy! After all, you have Jamie as a teenager now. Soon, he's going to start having feeeeeelings.

And one teeny-tiny headcanon note here. In this fic, Sophie is about four years younger than Jamie. So, that would put her at ten years old here, figuring that she was around four-ish in ROTG, making Jamie either eight or nine at that point. Does that sound about right? I hope so!

* * *

**Day Four**

Jamie gets up bright and early on a cold, crisp Saturday morning. For the fourth day in a row, it's snowing, though it's limited to a gentle snowfall, in comparison to the blizzard that happened two days ago. The weather hardly puts a dent in his plans for the day; completely the opposite, in fact. As long as it stays cold today, there's not a single problem. Then again, Jamie can't imagine that it'll get very warm at all.

It's early enough in the morning that his parents aren't awake yet, and the house is cast in an eerie stillness. Even Abby continues to snooze by the front door, not even jostled in the slightest. Jamie tip-toes into the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar and a bottle of water and throwing it into a backpack on the back of one of the dining room chairs. Then, he heads back upstairs for a moment to get dressed and grab a pair of skates. They're borrowed, since his only pair are in the basement and meant for someone six years old, in comparison to fourteen. They're from Monty's current obsession with hockey, which, knowing that kid's luck, isn't going to last very long.

He quietly hurries down the stairs again, stopping to shove his skates in his bag. Then, he grabs a coat and a pair of gloves, and attempts to open the front door as quietly as possible.

"What's the rush?" comes a high-pitched, amused voice.

Jamie gasps and turns, only to see Sophie seated on the stairs, still dressed in her pajamas, with a smile on her face that is all mischief. It's obvious on what she's picked up from Jack, especially his penchant for sneaking up behind people.

"I told you to quit that!" Jamie snaps at her.

"Can't help it," she excuses with a shrug. "Ninjas don't know how to stop sneaking. It's like telling Abby to stop chasing squirrels."

It's enough to make Jamie pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. "Just don't tell mom and dad, okay? For all they know, I'm going to Monty's."

"Is that why you have his skates?" she asks.

Evidently, she's been sneaking on him for far longer than he thought. He wonders in the back of his head if maybe she really _is_ a ninja. "I borrowed them," he says, already wishing he was out the door.

Something clicks in her head, and her smile just grows, which is enough to make Jamie uneasy. She leans forward, hands on her knees, eyes narrowed as if she knows something that even Jamie doesn't know. "You're going to hang out with Jack, aren't you?" she asks, even though he gets the distinct sense that it's not a question at all.

"Yes," he admits stiffly. "Now can you go back upstairs now?"

"Oh, sure. Just tell him I said hi," she replies, but she continues narrowing her eyes, and Jamie can tell there's something that's going unsaid. "And give him a ki-"

"Leaving now!" Jamie exclaims, though not too loudly. The last thing he hears before he shuts the door is Sophie actually _cackling_.

-

The walk to the pond is very calming, even considering the distance. Jamie's walked there in the summer, even when he knows Jack won't be there. He hopes he'll eventually be able to drive there, since there's a small dirt road that runs beside it and leads into a state park.

He knows the way so well now that he doesn't even have to think about it. His feet just follow the same path they've been following for years. It's a left at 3rd street, a short right at Walnut, and then another left at a small street that isn't marked until you walk up about fifty feet, where there's a tiny sign reading 'Macon Service Road'. He follows that road, which is currently covered in thick snow, though the road itself is marked by a slight indentation in the snow's surface.

As he walks the distance to the pond, he looks around the expanse of the forest. It's quiet, save for the slight jostling of branches in the wind, and the faint, almost inaudible sound of snowfall. He doesn't know why he thinks about it, but he wonders if the forest always looked like this, even when Jack was around. It feels like it has been, and it gives Jamie the strangest sense of nostalgia, though he isn't completely sure why.

Suddenly, to his left, something shuffles in the thick layer of leafless brush. Jamie freezes, holding his breath as he stares, wide-eyed. It shuffles again, until something visibly moves. From behind the thick tangle of branches comes a doe, black eyes wide, snout twitching as she breathes out vapor. She stares at Jamie, evidently as surprised as he is. Then, she lifts her head up, as if in alert, before prancing away in the opposite direction. Jamie can't help but laugh, moreso in surprise.

"What's so funny?" someone asks, just above Jamie.

He looks up, seeing Jack sitting on a high branch of a tree, back to the trunk of it. He's a welcome sight, his eyes bright and shining with a certain, familiar playfulness that Jamie is happy to see. He easily hops down from his perch to the ground, and as usual, his landing is completely silent.

"Oh, it was just a deer," Jamie finally answers as Jack walks up beside him.

"Yeah, one out of like, fifty around here," Jack replies, beginning a slow stroll toward the pond, to which Jamie dutifully follows. Jack casts a look over his shoulder at Jamie and grins impishly. "So, skating day?"

Jamie nods, his hands going to the straps of his backpack. For some reason, he feels nervous. At first, he thinks it's because he literally hasn't skated since he was little. However, once he really thinks about it, he realizes it isn't that at all. "Yeah," he says steadily, careful not to let Jack think he's nervous at all.

"Well, it's pretty easy once you get the hang of it."

"What makes you think I haven't done it before?" Jamie asks.

The look Jack gives him is pretty hilarious. Both eyebrows are raised, eyes wide, as if he's shocked. However, is mouth is upturned in a quirked smile. "First, you had to borrow Monty's skates. Second, you and your sister seem to share the genetic trait of falling down, _a lot_."

Unfortunately, Jack isn't wrong. Jamie is notoriously clumsy, though not as bad as his sister, who sometimes runs into walls if she doesn't look where she's going. Even so, he has to correct Jack a little, just to get a word in edgewise. "Actually, I _have_ skated before," he mutters. "When I was six."

He doesn't elaborate on that, though. In short, his mom had him take skating lessons for two weeks, which ended in an accident that the Tooth Fairy surely remembered. All Jamie could picture is the grin on her face, recounting the very first tooth Jamie (unwillingly) lost. Jack definitely didn't need to know.

"Fine, fine, but that doesn't mean you're any good _now_," Jack teases.

"Yeah, well, you're gonna eat your words soon, Frost," Jamie shoots back with a grin that Jack's probably proud of.

-

Actually, Jamie eats his words far before Jack can. He puts on his skates after a struggle (to which Jack laughs under his breath and Jamie tells him to shut up) and then tentatively walks out to the edge of the pond. The surface is smooth and glassy, glinting silver in the morning light. It hasn't been marred or pocked by anything, and it almost seems as though Jack purposely swept the snow off the surface.

Already, Jack's standing out in the middle of the pond, one leg crossed over the other while leaning against his stick. Of course he's not going to have a problem on the ice, seeing as how it's his element. "Well?" he calls, looking simultaneously amused and expectant.

"Hang on a sec," Jamie replies, toeing the edge of the ice with the tip of his skate. "Just trying to get my bearings."

Jack yawns dramatically and leans even more on his stick. "You're gonna take all morning if that's the case."

"Shut up!" Jamie shoots back, beginning an attempt to scoot onto the ice. It doesn't work very well, as his skates just stay in place.

"You have to push off with one foot," Jack explains, demonstrating a little by pushing himself with his left foot and gliding a few feet with his right. Then, he stops and watches Jamie attempt to mimic it.

He does, only to fall the second he pushes. He fumbles gloriously, landing on his right arm and rolling onto his back. When he looks up, Jack's already looking back down at him, that infuriating, crooked grin on his face. "Need some help?" he asks, holding his hand out for Jamie to take.

Reluctantly, Jamie does so, hoisting himself up and steadying himself on the ice. Then, he rubs his arm. There's definitely a bruise forming there already. "I'm fine," he grinds out, and he sounds far more petulant than he expected.

"Ah, yeah. Teenagers. I forget how independent you all are," Jack says wistfully.

Jamie tries again, this time moving himself a few feet out onto the ice. It's a tiny success, but it's a _success_. His face lights up in a smile and he looks up at Jack to gauge his reaction.

Just as he hopes, Jack's smiling right back at him. Then, the spirit starts slowly moving backwards, not necessarily skating as he is gliding. Jamie slowly realizes the challenge being set, and he tentatively moves forward. At first, he stumbles a little bit, but he catches himself before he can outright fall down. Then, he moves a little more.

After a few minutes of Jamie scooting along and slipping once or twice, he establishes something like a pace. Jack's pace remains a little faster. He moves all the way around the circumference of the pond, keeping in a languid glide. "Not too shabby," he compliments, nodding to the boy. "Not exactly Olympic material, but not at the level of a six year old, either."

Jamie rolls his eyes and continues his attempt to keep up. He can feel it getting easier, save for the ache starting to form in his ankles. The momentum is really what's keeping him going, and as soon as he feels a little self-made wind in his face, he feels pretty confident.

That is, until Jack suddenly stops. Instead of stopping as well, Jamie yelps and ungracefully trips over his own feet. Luckily, Jack catches him before his head can smack off the ice. At the same time, the spirit bursts into laughter that rings through the woods like a carillon. As Jamie lays there, slightly stunned, his shoulders supported by Jack's arms and his head against Jack's chest, he blinks, trying to get a hold of himself. Then, it all comes back at once and he quickly attempts to stand up, only to nearly fall over again.

"What the heck was that for?" he exclaims, dusting the snow and ice off his jeans and shivering when he feels some of it seep through the fabric. He also feels himself getting a little flushed as well.

"Thought you'd kind of naturally know how to stop," Jack explains with a shrug. "Then again, like I said. Genetic clumsiness."

Jamie groans when he tries to skate in the opposite direction and his right ankle seems to disagree. He manages to scuttle back to the shoreline, seating himself on a large rock protruding from the snow. "I swear, if you made me sprain my ankle..." he murmurs, urging his skate off.

"You didn't _sprain _it," Jack says wryly.

He didn't. In fact, he didn't even bruise anything, save for maybe his pride. Jamie massages his ankle a little bit, though the pain recedes quickly. Then, he works the skate back on and ties it. After that's done, he looks back up at Jack, who is now hovering a little off the ground, his expression amused.

"Okay," Jamie says slowly, as if delivering his ultimatum. "We try that again, this time without stopping and nearly giving me a concussion."

"Sure thing, your highness," Jack replies with a mock salute. He starts going backwards again, and this time, Jamie keeps up with him.

-

By the time the sun actually starts to peek through the clouds from its apex in the sky, Jamie feels like he's improved. He can actually stop now, without falling. He can also turn pretty quickly, as well as go backwards. Then again, while he was managing that, Jack was showing off by doing figure-eights around him.

Jamie reaches into his pocket to check the time on his cell phone as he works himself into a stop on the ice. "Jeez, noon already?" he says to himself, only to feel Jack come up behind him and peer over his shoulder.

"Huh," the spirit hums. "I wasn't even keeping track."

"Me, either."

Then, Jack nimbly takes the phone from his fingers, ignoring the 'hey' of protest. "When did you get a phone, anyway?"

"Last summer," Jamie says, attempting to grab his phone back. Naturally, Jack keeps it just out of reach.

Jamie's not sure of exactly what Jack's doing, but the spirit pokes at something on the touch screen and then breaks into a grin. "This is kinda cool. But aren't you a little young for this?"

"I'm fourteen," Jamie replies, stressing the end. "Definitely old enough to have a phone."

For some reason, Jack's expression changes a little bit. His smile doesn't completely fade, but it has a different quality to it. "Growing up kinda fast, huh?" he says, handing the phone back to Jamie, who eagerly takes it.

"Not really." Jamie glances at the phone, seeing that Jack pulled up his star map app. He didn't mess with it much, other than maybe adjusting the screen a fraction. After he turns off the phone and tucks it back in his pocket, he looks up at Jack who is now staring out at the woods with an unreadable expression. He's not smiling anymore, but Jamie gets the distinct sense that he's not really unhappy, either. Slowly, he realizes what Jack's probably thinking. "Not like I'm going to stop believing or anything!" Jamie suddenly adds. "Besides, I'm still _technically_ a kid."

Jack opens his mouth a little, as if he wants to say something, but closes it. Then, he turns to Jamie, a smile working its way back onto his face. "Of course you are," he says, sounding almost relieved. Then, he reaches out and pats Jamie on the head. "Just stay shorter than me, and we're good."

Funny, considering that Jamie's nearly eye-level with Jack's nose now. He laughs and peers up at Jack, reflecting his quirked grin. "Doesn't exactly sound like a promise I can keep."

"Nope, can't be friends with you if you're taller than me," Jack sing-songs, practically skipping away from Jamie and kicking up a little extra snow as he does so.

Jamie hurries to take his skates off and put his shoes back on. When he finally manages to put everything back in order, he takes off after the spirit, who laughs again and rushes down the road back to Burgess. They're unfairly matched, but then again, that's the fun of it, and Jamie's never been adverse to that. Then again, he doesn't think he ever will be.


	5. Day Five

I am so sorry about the delay again. :c Unfortunately, my cold decided to stick around (and get worse) just until today. Luckily, I'm completely better and ready to write again. :D Yay!

So, this chapter kind of borders on the gloomy side at times, but not to worry! Cuteness abounds! It's also on the shippy side again, so fair warning. And the next chapter is guaranteed to be _way_ more light-hearted. Christmas baking, anyone? c:

* * *

**Day Five**

It's the kind of year that Jamie gets worried about. The past few months have been oddly warm, leading into a wet, mild winter, in which it only snowed once and just for a short time. Even at his age, he finds himself wishing on every star, every time a clock says 11:11, and every time he throws a coin in a fountain that it will snow by Christmas. When he complains about it to his parents, they just say that it wouldn't be the first time it hasn't snowed near Christmas, and excuse it just like that.

He doesn't attempt to summon Jack, because for the past year, the spirit in question has been at the Pole so often that Jamie wonders if it would be detrimental to call him. He's not sure what Jack can be busy with, but he doesn't want to interfere.

So, one night, he stays up, busying himself with his art homework. It's edging closer to Christmas every day, and as usual, the Bennett household is a glimmering beacon of Christmas cheer, minus the typical yearly blanket of snow. He looks out his window, which is currently framed by a rainbow of lights, and sighs. If his phone's weather report reads right, it's around forty degrees outside, meaning there's no chance of snow tonight, either.

To try to keep his mind off it, he sketches something out in his sketchbook. It's a rough example of a figure, and he's not even sure what he's trying to draw. However, it's distracting, and he's alright with that.

"Why is this even _bothering_ me?" he mutters to himself as he erases a misplaced line.

Really, he has no idea. So what if the weather was warmer than usual? Most people probably like it like that! And it isn't like Jack is ignoring him or anything. He's just busy, after all. Realistically, Jack has a job to do, a duty to fulfill, and it certainly doesn't revolve around some teenage kids in Burgess.

When Jamie finally shakes his thoughts away from Jack, he looks down at the figure on the paper. At the tip of his pencil is a familiar head of spiky hair. With an irritated groan, Jamie rips the paper out of the sketchbook and crumples it up, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder.

Suddenly, his bedroom door opens, and a familiar head of untamed blonde hair pokes in, clad in oddly bright pink sunglasses.

"Jamie?"

"What is it, Soph?" Jamie murmurs, lowering his head to his desk. "I'm working."

Sophie raises an eyebrow and goes the rest of the way into his room, shutting the door behind her. "That doesn't look like work," she states.

"Yeah, I'm thinking. That's work."

"Well, don't hurt yourself."

He groans again, slowly lifting his head up. "What do you want?" he asks, with far more frustration than he intended.

Luckily, she deflects it with the expertise of any younger sibling. "Wanted to know if you wanted to make some paper snowflakes, since mom and dad are out," she says with a brightness in her voice comparable to the Christmas lights outside.

Jamie swivels around in his chair, giving her a long, hard look. "Why would I wanna make paper snowflakes?"

Once again, there's a look in Sophie's eyes that Jamie has come to dread over the years. It's a look that translates to 'I have a devious plan and you're my test subject'. Jamie sometimes imagines Sophie with one of those old-timey handlebar mustaches and a monocle whenever she looks at him like that. However, she simply holds her hands behind her back and accompanies the glint in her eyes with a wide, seemingly innocent smile. "You've seemed kinda down lately. Thought it might cheer you up!"

"Paper snowflakes, though?"

There's that look again. "Yep!" is all she says.

Well, not like he has a reason to tell her no. After all, any hope of finishing his art homework right now is all crumpled up. So, he sighs in defeat and gets up, following her down the stairs as she leads him while humming some cheery, unfamiliar tune.

-

Already, it seems like Sophie was hard at work on some snowflakes. Multicolored paper is spread across the table like a second tablecloth. Scraps of it, attacked viciously by a pair of decorative scissors, is strewn about like confetti. There's a few evident rejects on one side of the table, and acceptable ones on the other side.

Sophie makes him sit next to her before hopping up into her own chair and taking a bright purple paper and folding it. Jamie sits there, unmoving, staring down at the paper mosaic.

"Well, c'mon," she urges. "They're not gonna make themselves!"

The first thing Jamie _wants_ to say is that if Jack was here, he could make them. But, the retort dies in his throat as soon as he thinks it, and he mumbles out a 'fine' before taking a yellow sheet of paper.

"Gross. Yellow snow?" Sophie criticizes.

"It's on the table. Fair game," he replies, folding the paper up.

She makes another disgusted sound before returning to her snowflake, her hands working quickly before she grabs the scissors and nearly shreds the thing. Jamie, on the other hand, attempts to make some semblance of a pattern on his, though it's difficult considering the safety scissors and the cardboard-like quality of the paper. Finally, he makes something that he thinks looks relatively normal and unfolds it. Really, it doesn't look _too_ bad, even if it is a neon yellow snowflake. Dare he thinks it, but he's kind of proud. He even holds it up to Sophie, who looks it over with a 'hmmm' before nodding.

"Good. Put it over there," she says, gesturing to what Jamie guesses is the 'acceptable' pile.

"What are we making these for anyway?" he asks, grabbing a green piece of paper.

Sophie shrugs as she finishes her purple snowflake with a few more stray snips of her scissors. "Decoration."

He looks around the dining room at her response. Really, it's not like they need any more decorations. There's some garland strewn around near the ceiling, tied in some places with bright red velvet bows, and there's even a Santa and Mrs. Claus set of salt and pepper shakers on the table, though Santa hardly looks anything like North. On one wall, there's a gallery of old Christmas-themed arts and crafts from when Jamie and Sophie were little, though a good portion of the dried macaroni fell of some of the pictures, and there's a suspicious coffee-colored stain on a drawing of a reindeer.

"I think we're pretty well-decorated, Soph," Jamie replies, turning back to his snowflake-to-be.

"Says you," she retorts. "You used to freak out if we didn't have enough!"

"I didn't 'freak out'," he says testily.

She shrugs again and keeps hacking at her new snowflake. However, she didn't really answer his question, and Jamie is sure that it's all a part of her plan. So, he quietly goes back to his work, making methodical snips at the paper to make a highly-detailed snowflake.

-

Within about an hour, in which some sort of silent competition started to see who could make the most snowflakes, the two of them have amassed nearly twenty-five paper snowflakes, ranging from big to tiny, and in a myriad of colors. They've about exhausted the paper supply, and Jamie has to stop to massage his hand from using the undersized scissors.

"What now?" he asks, staring at the pile, surrounded by piles of cut-up paper, which is probably going to need its own garbage bag just to dispose of all of it.

"_Duh_," Sophie says, picking the snowflakes up. "We put them up! Everywhere!"

"Wh-what? Why everywhere?"

She rolls her eyes and hands him half the pile. "Y'know, Jamie, as smart as you are, you're kinda dumb."

Without another word, she trots off, soon wielding a tape dispenser and taping snowflakes to every window and evidently, every available surface. Reluctantly, Jamie trails after her, attempting to place the paper snowflakes a bit more aesthetically, so that there's not-for example-one stuck on the front of their grandparents' wedding portrait. Instead, he places them in the bay window at the front of the house and on the front door.

Suddenly, Sophie races upstairs, arms still full of paper precipitation, a huge smile on her face. She stomps up the stairs faster than Jamie can react.

"Soph! Where are you going?" he calls up the stairs.

"Forgot something!" she shouts back. "I'll be down in a second!" Then, there's more thumping before a door slams shut.

Jamie shrugs and continues putting the snowflakes up as carefully as possible. The last thing they need is for their parents to come home with baffled looks on their faces, wondering what happened to their childrens' sanity. Then again, they seemed to have always wondered that.

He turns around to put a snowflake up above the TV, which has been on for awhile, but just muted. It shows a commercial of a happy family drinking hot chocolate near a fire, and then, oddly enough, shows an ad for flood damage, as if that makes sense. Then, the weather comes on. Jamie pauses for a moment to see. To his disappointment, the temperature outlook hasn't changed a bit. It's to stay in the low forties and high thirties for the rest of the week, and probably well into Christmas. With a sigh, Jamie looks away and places a bright blue snowflake right above the television.

After awhile, Sophie comes back down, with suspiciously less snowflakes in her hands compared to before. However, now she has that look back in her eyes, but she quickly looks away from him and takes the remainder of his snowflakes.

"Hey!"

She looks up at him with a slight frown. "What?"

"I wasn't done with those yet," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So? Besides, don't you have homework to do?"

He fights the urge to give her a pretty strong retort, but he slowly realizes that this is all a part of her plan. She wanted to lure him away from his room, and it worked. "Ohhh, Sophie Bennett, I am _on to you_," he says, waving his index finger at her in warning while slowly backing up towards the stairs.

"Merry Christmas!" she sing-songs, waving as he backs away from her. Then, she turns away from him and begins singing to herself. "_Chestnuts roasting on an open fiiiireeee!_"

Jamie decides to take his leave immediately, eager and terrified to see what she could have possibly done.

-

It's worse than he feared, and yet, almost exactly what he expected. His room is completely covered in a rainbow arrangement of paper snowflakes. There's some above his bed (one _on_ his bed), around his desk, on his dresser, and most alarmingly, forming a heart-shape on his window, made completely out of pink and blue snowflakes. At first, he wants to take them down, or maybe even return the favor and put all of them in her room, instead.

"Nah, she'd like that too much," he mutters to himself, picking the stray one off his bed and sticking it to the headboard. He sits on the edge of his bed, looking once more around his room with a drawn-out sigh. Then, he looks at the sketchbook, seemingly abandoned on his desk. However, he was certain that he left it closed when he was hauled out of his room. Now, it's open to one page, with the barest hint of scribbling on it.

Jamie takes it, looking down at the page and soon feeling a headache coming on. There's two stick figures, one with spiky hair, the other with darker, longer hair, and naturally, they're holding hands. What more, they're framed by an oval of little hearts. In the corner, there's a scrawled message in what is obviously Sophie's handwriting.

'_you should turn this in! :)_'

Instead of throwing out the paper, he simply snaps the sketchbook shut and puts it back on the desk. "Well, it's not due until the day before break," he tells himself, though it's not really a huge comfort. At the very thought, he glances at his window, still mercilessly clad in paper snowflakes, but frost-less, like every night for the past few months.

Jamie shakes his head, trying to get rid of the thought entirely. Like he already told himself, Jack is busy, and really has no reason to be hanging around Burgess anyway.

-

He goes to bed a few hours later, sleeping under just one duvet, compared to the two or three he usually piles on in the winter. However, for the last few weeks, they haven't been necessary.

Or, at least until the window opens, bringing in a cold, yet gentle breeze, and with it, a familiar under-the-breath laugh. Jamie shivers in response, but doesn't wake up, even when Jack looks at the window and murmurs, "_Nice_," to no one in particular.

The spirit turns around, surveying the room in all its new snowflake-clad splendor. Obviously, it's the work of one Sophie Bennett, and Jack couldn't expect any less of her. Then, he looks down at Jamie, deep in sleep that's certainly brought on by the Sandman. Jack wonders what exactly he dreams about, since he's never actually seen for himself. If he's anything like the kid Jack remembers him as, he might still be dreaming about yetis and aliens. Then again, he's not a kid anymore (and made good on breaking his promise not to get any taller), so Jack isn't really sure.

Even so, Jack reaches out and ruffles Jamie's hair, grinning when he sees the boy shift in his sleep, the corners of of his lips quirking up in what might be a smile. It doesn't wake him up, though, and Jack decides to let him be for now. He walks back to the window, pausing while looking at the heart-shaped ensemble. Then, still grinning, he blows on the window, summoning a patch of frost made of elegant curls like a leaf, before drawing a snowflake to add to the collection. With his magic, it'll stay there until Jamie wakes up, and it certainly won't be the only surprise waiting for him. It'll be just a tiny thing in comparison to the blanket of snow that falls on Burgess that night. Even better, with a strange shift in weather patterns, it's guaranteed to stay until Christmas.


	6. Day Six

Woohoo! Finally got the sixth chapter up, just in time for the first day of winter!

Thank you all again for your reviews. ;w; You're all so nice! You really make it worth it to keep writing this!

Anyway, like I said before, this chapter is super fluffy. Chances are, all the chapters following this are going to be. c: Outright fluff is one of my weaknesses.

* * *

**Day Six**

The grocery store is oddly packed, even though Christmas is still more than a week away. Jamie maneuvers through the crowd, plastic basket held in the crook of his right arm as he scans the aisle. He sighs, tucking his nose just under the fringe of his scarf. There's an enormous amount of variety here, even for just a tiny corner store. His hand hovers over one box of cookie mix, before he drops it to his side and sighs.

"She could've at least given me a list," he mutters to himself, glancing over the other boxes and bags of any variation of sugar-loaded cookie mix.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, sliding his finger over the bottom before reading the message.

'_From: Sophie Bennett_

sugar cookies! duh! AND EXTRA FROSTING!'

He snorts under his breath, tucking his phone back into his pocket and idly wondering if Sophie has a strange, innate ability to read minds. Then, he grabs one box of sugar cookie mix after a slight glance over the glossy, multicolored picture. It shows several snowman-shaped cookies, coated in white sugar frosting and glimmering with a rainbow array of practically _neon_ sprinkles, the colors so bright that Jamie wonders if the artist just pushed the saturation bar on their art program to its maximum capacity. He doesn't think on it long before he puts the box in the basket and walks a short way down the aisle to pick up several packs of white frosting.

After picking up a few more things (eggs and, of all things, asparagus), Jamie goes to the checkout line, standing, rather unfortunately, behind a woman with a cart filled to the top with seemingly _everything_ in the store. She seems antsy, picking through her wallet for coupons and who knows what else and muttering to herself. Jamie just sighs and adjusts his scarf again.

It's nearly Christmas break, with four days left to go at his school. The workload has thankfully been light, thanks to what Jamie considers as absolutely merciful teachers who want out of school as much as their students. His homework this week has been limited to one paper and one art assignment, which is really just a figure study that doesn't require much effort.

However, it's hardly Christmas break his mind is going to right now. It's more focused on a certain snow guardian, who, if the weather reports have anything to say about it, has been hanging around Burgess since November. Jack's been certainly busy, though not busy enough to miss out on seeing Jamie and Sophie when he can. He's already given them one snow day earlier in the month, which manifested as a sleet-blizzard combo on an early Friday morning. By Friday afternoon, all that could be heard was the distinct hum of snowblowers and the happy shrieks of kids playing in the enormous piles of snow. It didn't need to be questioned as to how happy Jack was about that.

The lady in front of Jamie finally leaves after a frenzy of couponing. Jamie quietly places his groceries on the belt, smiling at the cashier who grins and wishes him a Merry Christmas. After Jamie pays for what he has, he wishes her a Merry Christmas in return and begins the walk home.

He could have driven to the store, but honestly, he enjoys walking much more. Even after getting a car (slightly rusty, with the saddest sounding ignition noise in the history of automotives), he preferred walking, especially in the winter. He kicks his way through some leftover snow drifts, watching the fluffy powder make a short cascade into the air. He even slips a little on a stray patch of ice on a portion of sidewalk that hasn't yet been salted. With a laugh, he continues down the street, the bottom portion of his face burrowed in his scarf.

-

The house already has the distinct smell of baking, although Jamie isn't entirely sure what Sophie is attempting to create now. It smells remotely sweet, and at least it isn't burnt. After Jamie kicks the remaining snow off his boots, he looks around the living room. Like always, it's decorated from floor to ceiling in tinsel and paper cutouts of Santa and elves.

The tree sits close to the bay window, looking out onto the street. It's a shining gallery of lights and ornaments, some made by Jamie and Sophie when they were young, others bought by relatives or the family. One of Jamie's particular favorites is a crystal snowflake that hangs near the top of the tree, which was given to Jamie's mom by their late grandmother. It's a geometrical piece of art that Jamie's always liked, and he especially admires it when it catches the light just right and shimmers like snow.

He glances at it for a moment before taking his boots and scarf off and walking into the kitchen. Naturally, Sophie's made a mess, but that's to be expected. She's wearing an apron and has her hair tied back, a streak of flour on one cheek like warpaint. She's glancing over a cookbook propped up on a counter, supported by a bag of chocolate chips. Her hands hovering over a lump of tan dough on a cutting board.

"Do you need help, Soph?" Jamie asks, amused.

Sophie glares at him over her shoulder. "Of course not! I got this!"

He shrugs and puts the groceries on another counter. Beside him, their mom walks by with an arm full of scrapbooking materials. "It's okay. She told me the same thing," she says with a laugh before walking into the dining room.

The oven beeps, and with it, Sophie lets out an exasperated sigh. She goes to wipe her hands on the apron, but Jamie beats her to the oven. He opens it, finding a tray of muffins that are a little on the lumpy side, but still look appetizing. As he looks them over, Sophie nudges him impatiently in the ribs. "Move it!"

"You _sure_ you don't need help?" he asks, moving aside regardless.

Sophie jams on a pair of quite festive oven mitts and pulls out the tray. "I'm positive! Besides, you don't have time to help me right now. You have a visitor."

"Huh?"

She pauses, giving Jamie a look like he eats paint chips for breakfast. "Upstairs? Your room?"

It clicks as soon as she says it, and Jamie doesn't waste any time flying up the stairs, Sophie's frustrated sigh at his back.

-

When Jamie opens the door, he's greeted to the sight of Jack sitting on his desk, Jamie's sketchbook in his lap as he examines the drawings. He looks up when he hears Jamie come in, his usual smile spread across his face. "Heya, Jamie," he greets, waving with one hand. Then, he looks back down at the sketchbook. "I forgot how good you're getting with this stuff."

Despite Jamie's excitement, he groans. "What did I tell you about looking at my sketchbook?" he says, though he doesn't take it away from Jack.

"Oh, c'mon. Your biggest fan can't admire your work?"

It's certainly a compliment, especially when Jamie thinks about how old Jack is, and how much art he's probably seen in all his years of existence. "I'm not that good," he finally says, unable to really think of anything else to say.

"Sure you are!" Jack exclaims, looking up at Jamie in bewilderment, as if the boy has just said something outright ridiculous. He flips to a page in particular, which Jamie recognizes as one of his watercolor landscape projects. It's of the pond where he and Jack skate in the winter, though he drew it as a summer landscape, with the pond shining a clear blue in the summer sun, against a backdrop of emerald green trees. It was a project that Jamie worked especially hard on. Jack points at it, eyes wide, his smile growing. "That's like, ridiculous levels of good!"

Jamie goes to make a retort about its mediocrity, but he finds himself unable to say a word against it. Jack obviously honestly likes it, and with slow realization, Jamie figures that Jack hasn't seen the pond look like that before. He's only ever around it in the winter, so maybe to him, it _is_ ridiculous levels of good.

"Thanks," he finally says, his voice soft. Then, he perks up a bit and glances at Jack, who continues to page through the sketchbook. "So, what brought this visit on?"

Jack closes the book, sets it aside on the desk, and leans back. "Just in the neighborhood. Then I saw that Sophie was on a baking escapade and I couldn't help myself."

Jamie raises an eyebrow. "Can you even eat cookies?"

"Of course I can! Just because some people can't see me doesn't mean I'm not tangible! Actually, I'm kind of a snickerdoodle person, but I'm not that picky." The very idea of a spirit enjoying snickerdoodle cookies is enough to make Jamie suddenly snort in laughter, which in turn, causes Jack to laugh. "What's so funny?" he asks, chuckling.

"Dunno. Never exactly pinned you as liking pastries, I guess?"

The spirit laughs again. "You think I could go to the North Pole and not eat half the stuff they make there?"

That makes sense, considering Jack's stories about elves at North's place inhaling cookies like that's their job (which, also according to those stories, might just _be_ their job) and about how there's a constant scent of cookies there. Jamie's never been there, and probably never will be, but he can only imagine.

"Well, um, my mom's going to be gone in about an hour to go to a Christmas party with my dad. Do you wanna come down and help?" Then, he pauses, a bit confused. "Unless the heat makes you uncomfortable. Sophie's had the oven going like, all day."

Jack responds with a slight shrug. "It's not too bad. Just as long as I'm not _right_ next to the oven, I guess. Not like I'm gonna melt or anything. I might just have to step out once in awhile."

Jamie isn't quite sure how this is going to go, but it seems alright. Jack seems confident, though, and Jamie can't imagine he'd do anything to himself that would put him in danger.

"Uh, do you know how to cook?"

At first, Jack seems like he wants to say something, complete with an enormous grin, but he slowly shuts his mouth. He seems to think it over before his lips quirk up and he nods. "Can't be that hard, right? I've _seen_ people cook. I think I can get the hang of it."

-

A half an hour later, Jack and Jamie make their way down to the kitchen as soon as Jamie's parents' car is out of the driveway. Jamie notices that Jack approaches the kitchen somewhat shyly, taking careful, slow steps. His attention seems to be captured by everything in the house. His movements are careful, as though he's afraid of jostling anything.

"Jack," Jamie says, trying to sound reassuring. "You're fine."

"I know, I know," Jack replies with a forced smile. "I've just never been out of your room. Or, in anybody's house, for that matter."

Jamie wants to assure him that everything is alright, and he's not doing anything wrong, but Jack seems alright. In fact, he looks around the house in wonder, his expression almost childlike. Without saying anything more, Jamie grins and directs Jack into the kitchen.

Somehow, the kitchen is even more of a mess than when Jamie went upstairs, that wasn't _that_ long ago. Sophie now has a dark brown streak across the bridge of her nose, and Jamie assumes the streak is made of chocolate. Loose hair has fallen in her face, some of it sticking to what ever cooking ingredient is on her skin. However, she perks up as soon as she sees the two of them in the kitchen. Though, she's definitely looking more at Jack than Jamie.

"H-hi," she says, waving with her free hand (the one not measuring out baking powder) and, if Jamie can see right, she might just be blushing.

Jack returns the wave before glancing over the state of the kitchen. He leans toward Jamie, just within range that Jamie can hear him. "Is... this supposed to be what baking looks like?"

"Sophie-style baking, yeah."

"I heard that," Sophie snaps, dumping the baking powder into a large plastic bowl. "Now are you two just going to stand around and critique? Or are you going to help me bake?"

It quickly becomes apparent that even through however many years of watching people bake and cook, Jack actually doesn't know how. He watches Jamie help Sophie make dough with a nonplussed expression. Then, he stares agape at Jamie using the oven. All the turning of knobs and pressing of buttons seem to baffle him as if he's learning how to operate a space-bound rocket at Mission Control. Finally, Jamie hands him one of the large plastic bowls, filled with a cream-colored mixture that is a little on the lumpy side. There's a wooden spoon sticking out of it, which Jack gingerly takes in his hand.

"Stir that until you get all the lumps out," Jamie says.

Jack does so, although his attempts are a little clumsy. Then, he gets the hang of it, and before long, he's stirring the mixture as if he's part-whisk. It eventually becomes completely smooth, and when it is, he hands it back to Jamie who pours small portions of it onto a metal cooking sheet. He smiles at Jack as he puts the bowl in the sink.

"See? Not that hard," he says.

Evidently, that's a huge compliment to Jack. He beams at Jamie before walking beside him, while still keeping a distance from the oven. Then, he peers over the teen's shoulder as Jamie spaces out the cream-colored lumps with a spatula.

"Can I try?" Jack finally asks. It doesn't really look all that hard, seeing as how it's just smushing lumps of dough.

Jamie hands Jack the spatula and stands aside, pausing to watch the spirit press the lumps into cookie-like shapes. Like Jamie did before, Jack doesn't press them down too thinly. In fact, they look perfect.

Once he finishes, Jamie takes the tray and puts it in the oven, a layer above a tray that Sophie filled. Heat radiates from it, and Jack takes a whole step back, his skin prickling at the feeling. It's not painful so much as it's just uncomfortable. Even though Jamie's been informed, when he shuts the oven and looks up at Jack, his expression is concerned.

"You okay?" he asks, standing up straight.

Jack nods, rubbing his right arm and standing near the doorway. Even so, he's still smiling, and it's not forced at all. "Yep! Just got a little toasty." Jamie actually looks relieved at this, turning back to his work in the kitchen only when he sees that Jack is completely alright.

-

After another hour of baking (including the sugar cookies), the last tray of cookies is pulled out of the oven and left on the counter to cool. All in all, there's been eight trays of cookies, three of muffins, and cinnamon raisin bread that Sophie had made earlier. Jamie and Jack sit at the dining room table, a plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of them as Sophie runs down to the basement to go get boxes to put the cookies in.

"We send them to relatives before Christmas," Jamie explains, breaking a cookie in half. He bites off the end of one half and leans back in his chair. "Actually, we only keep one tray for ourselves. It's a tradition that my grandma started. Kind of beats Christmas cards, huh?"

"I'd definitely prefer cookies to a card," Jack agrees, looking closely at his cookie rather than eating it.

Jamie finishes off one half before glancing at Jack and frowning. "Something wrong?" he asks, his concerned expression coming back.

"Huh? Oh, no! No, I'm fine. Just... thinking about things, I guess," Jack says. Then, he stops and appears perplexed before breaking into a sudden fit of laughter. "Th-that was pretty eloquent, huh?"

Jamie can't help but laugh in return, nodding as he does so. "No problem. For a second, I thought you were ticked about not getting snickerdoodle. But, I'll remedy that next year. I'll make Soph make you your own batch."

At first, he expects Jack to laugh again, but it catches him off-guard when Jack stares at him, his expression almost unreadable. He seems genuinely surprised, and there's something else there that Jamie can't quite figure out.

"Jack, what's wrong?" he asks, afraid that maybe he said something out of line somehow.

Jack's quiet for a few seconds before he shakes his head, a look of sheer delight starting to appear on his face. "Nothing's wrong, Jamie. I've just never had anyone really do something like that for me before. I mean, aside from North, but he kind of does that for everyone. You and Sophie..." He trails off, as if he doesn't know what else to say. However, before Jamie can ask him to continue, Jack surprises him by suddenly embracing him, pulling him close like how he did when Jamie was still young.

He doesn't let go for a long while. The two of them stay quiet, even when Jamie lowers his head to rest on Jack's shoulder. Jamie can feel the cold radiating from Jack, especially when it seeps through his own hoodie and onto his skin. It's hardly uncomfortable, and he feels no urge to move at all. He only knows that eventually, he has to. However, instead of moving away from Jack, he simply hugs him back, feeling just like he did that day at the pond, when they defeated Pitch. Though, this time, he knows that Jack isn't leaving, and if he did, he wouldn't be gone very long. Just, in general, Jamie doesn't want him to leave at all.

They don't even hear the basement door open, or see Sophie come up with her arms full of saved Styrofoam boxes. She goes to ask them to help her, but pauses when she sees the two of them. Then, she smiles and shakes her head. They don't need to be interrupted right now. Besides, she can boss them around all she wants later.


	7. Day Seven

Oh gosh, this is so late. ;n; Obviously, I got caught up in the holidays, but now I'm all good to write again! I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays as well, no matter what it is you celebrate, if you do. c: I apologize again for the wait, and I hope you enjoy this, even though it's kind of short. I promise the next chapter is going to be much longer!

* * *

**Day Seven**

Jamie stays up one night, long after his parents and Sophie go to bed. He stands at a counter in his kitchen, bare toes tapping on the linoleum floor, eyes adjusting to the dim light provided by the light above the sink. A water heater hums as it warms up, and Jamie's fingers trail around the rim of a coffee cup, a packet of powdered hot chocolate resting by his other hand. Tucked away behind the coffee maker is a bag of tiny marshmallows, which Jamie treats like a guilty pleasure.

It's completely quiet inside and outside the house. Outside, the world seems to be completely still. There's a thin layer of snow on the ground, undisturbed by a single wisp of wind. The sky is patchy with clouds, stars set against the blue-black backdrop of the sky visible between the gaps. Inside, the only sounds audible are the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and Jamie's own gentle breathing.

He's not up for any particular reason other than he simply can't sleep. It's been a long week, lots of Christmas preparation and running around. It's the first year he's bought presents for friends and family. It wasn't necessarily stressful, especially in comparison to the midterms he had, but it was enough to exhaust him. Idly, he wonders if maybe his brain is so tuned into that exhaustion that sleep seems like a foreign entity. It certainly feels that way.

He stares at the tiny red-orange light on the water heater, indicating that the appliance is working. He spaces out a little, unable to look away from it, though not focusing on it at the same time. In fact, he's so tuned out from everything that he doesn't even notice the sliding door to the backyard open, and he doesn't turn around until he feels that telltale chilled breeze.

"Jack?" he whispers to the darkness.

"Aren't you up kinda late?" is the answer.

The spirit isn't wrong. The glowing green numbers on the microwave read 1:30, which is about an hour and a half later than he usually goes to bed. In response, Jamie runs a hand through his hair, brown strands sticking up haphazardly. "Couldn't sleep," he explains, and as if his own body spites him, he fights a yawn.

Jack chuckles, and then leans on the counter beside Jamie. He nods down at the packet by Jamie's wrist. "Hot chocolate help you sleep?"

"I don't know," Jamie replies with a shrug, but he smiles regardless. "Actually, I'm making it out of boredom. Want some?"

At first, Jack is quiet, as if he's contemplating it. He looks a little reluctant, but that dissolves away quickly and he nods. "I'll try it."

Jamie moves away from the counter and walks over to a cupboard, pulling out another packet of hot chocolate. He shakes it experimentally as he walks back over to the water heater. Then, he reaches behind the coffee maker and holds up the marshmallows. "Want some of these, too?"

"Why not?"

They stand in comfortable silence, with Jamie now leaning up against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, and Jack leaning over the other counter and looking over the back of chocolate powder. Then, just as the water begins to boil, Jack perks his head up and glances over at Jamie. "Hey, Jamie?"

"Hmmm?"

Jack looks back down at the powder, turning over the packet absent-mindedly. Even in the darkness, Jamie can see the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "Thanks."

Jamie tilts his head. "For what?" he asks, moving toward the cupboard with the coffee cups once he hears the water heater click off.

"For being my friend," Jack says. He means it, especially when Jamie realizes exactly how long they've known each other. Next year is Jamie's last year of high school, and even after all this time, Jamie can still see Jack, can still speak to him. He thinks that even when he's in college, wherever that's going to be, he'll still believe in Jack Frost just as much as he did when he was young.

Without a word, Jamie pours the hot water into another coffee cup, pours in the powder, and adds a few marshmallows before pushing the cup toward Jack. The spirit's hands hover over the cup, but they don't touch the ceramic just yet.

"It's a little hot right now," Jamie says quietly, pouring himself a cup. "Just wait a few minutes."

Nodding, Jack stares down at his cup. "Thanks, again."

"No problem," Jamie replies. He stands beside Jack again and looks down at his own drink, the marshmallows floating aimlessly on the surface. The two of them share that amicable silence again before Jamie decides to make his move. He reaches out, giving Jack a one-armed hug and pulling the guardian close to him. Naturally, Jack is cold, but it's not uncomfortable. It's a little bold of him, but Jamie puts his head by Jack's, and smiles when he feels Jack lean into him. "Thanks for being my friend, too," Jamie finally says.

They stand there like that for a long while, until Jack reaches out and moves his hand over Jamie's cup. The steam recedes, and Jack smiles. "Should be cool enough, now."

Jamie laughs, moving away from Jack to sip at his hot chocolate. A moment later, Jack is, too. Even though they don't speak for a long while after that, the only sounds in the kitchen being quiet sips, Jamie's never been happier.


	8. Day Eight

Ick, sorry that this is so late again. :c I ended up getting way more busy than I thought I would be before New Years, so I didn't have much time to do anything on the computer, let alone write. Sad faces all around. Also, this chapter is definitely not as long as promised (in fact it's the shortest chapter so far), since the original chapter got scrapped just because I wasn't satisfied with it. I'm going to try to rework it for Day Nine or Ten. c:

Thank all of you so much for bearing with me for the past few days! All of the reviews I've gotten have been so nice, and I'm so excited to see all of your reactions for what's coming up. :D Judging by the content of some of the past couple reviews, you definitely won't be disappointed.

Lastly, this chapter doesn't have Jack in it, which is going to be addressed next chapter. ;D I've definitely got a method to my madness.

* * *

**Day Eight**

Jamie has no idea how he got wrangled into this, other than maybe at some point in time, he teased or pranked Sophie in some way that got him a heavy dose of bad karma. At least, that's the only explanation he can come up with as she literally drags him by the sleeve of his coat through downtown Burgess.

"C'mon, Jamie! This shopping list is huge and things aren't just going to buy themselves!" she chirps far too happily for the situation. Instead of retorting with something halfway clever, he just groans, allowing himself to be guided around like a dog.

Even with Christmas literally days away, Burgess is swarming with shoppers. Some of them look outright panicked, while others just mull about, seemingly content to wander. Sophie's a mix between the two. Part of her is a wreck since she feels like she's cutting it far too close for comfort, while the other part of her is in this strange meditative state of contentedness that comes from getting to shop in the first place. The combination of the two leads her to bound down the sidewalk like a spooked gazelle, while simultaneously having a hundred-watt smile on her face. It's a little frightening, Jamie thinks.

The only reason he's a part of this adventure is because he can drive, and Sophie's still a few months from even beginning to learn. And, somehow within the past few months, he had promised Sophie that he'd take her shopping at some point as a reward for doing some chore that he admits to being too lazy to do. Unfortunately, he forgot that Sophie has the memory of a very intelligent elephant, and thus never forgets _anything_. Of course, she held him to his promise.

"Why couldn't you get one of your friends to come with you?" he finally complains after being forced into some semi-touristy shop that sells t-shirts and coffee coasters with Burgess' name emblazoned on them in about six different fonts. He picks up a snow globe off a display and shakes it experimentally, watching the shredded white plastic fall slowly down onto a miniature version of the Thaddeus Burgess statue.

Sophie doesn't look up from her shopping list, but she does let out a long-suffering sigh that hardly befits someone who is nearly fifteen. "_Because_," she stresses. "You can drive and I'm not too keen on marching through five inches of snow because your boyfriend decided to shower us with his affections."

"He's not my-"

"Right, right. Defensive Jamie mode is a go. Got it," she says offhandedly, checking off something on her list as she talks. Then, without another word, she strolls off to look over a rotating rack of keychains.

He opens his mouth to call after her, but once again, any retort he might have come up with just falls short. Instead, he takes out his frustrations on the snow globe and shakes it with so much fervor that a soapy foam forms within the glass. He sets it back down hard enough that the shop owner looks up at him from the cash register with a confused expression, only to look back down at whatever she was doing and shrug.

Jamie's not sure why he's so frustrated, especially when Sophie's teasing has literally been going on for years. Honestly, he should have come to a point in his life where he was impervious to anything she said, but obviously, that never happened. Sophie has the odd ability of being able to annoy him to the point of fury, and then get away with it.

With a resigned sigh, he walks to the opposite end of the store, beside a wall filled with airbrushed t-shirts. There's a small display of local art pieces, like burnished clay tiles, hand-painted coffee coasters, and kitschy wire figurines of women drinking martinis. Then, something glints in the dim light of store and catches his eye. Behind a line of handmade Christmas ornaments suspended from a wooden peg is a tiny snowflake decoration. It's smaller than Jamie's palm, painted silver and white and coated in a layer of silver and blue glitter. The tag says that it was made by a local artist, and Jamie's relieved to see that it isn't extremely costly.

He's not entirely sure why, but he gently picks it up off the display, looks around to see if Sophie's looking, and when he sees that she isn't, he goes up to the cash register. It's a quick transaction, and before Sophie can turn around from examining a row of bottle caps converted into necklaces, the ornament is in a brown paper bag and safely in Jamie's pocket in a matter of seconds. Of course, he'll wait until Christmas to give it to its intended owner, but already, he can hardly wait. Naturally, it makes Sophie suspicious when she sees her formerly disgruntled brother now grinning as if he's been happy all along.


	9. Day Nine

Yeehaw! I got this done way faster than I thought I would. I've been feeling pretty inspired for this chapter, and for the next one. Huzzah!

Anyway, like I promised, here's a warning for pretty much outright Jack x Jamie. There's also an itty-bitty touch of angst, for those of you who aren't into it. However, it's followed up with major fluff, I promise.

Also, three guesses for what website Sophie likes to frequent. c:

* * *

**Day Nine**

Jamie wants to wait. Honestly, he does. But the fact that wherever he walks, he feels the ornament press against his leg makes it far harder to wait than he thought. He curses his own impatience, because _honestly_, he only had like, two days to go!

In short, he gives in. Worse than that, he gives in when it's nearly midnight, and it's so cold outside that there's a winter weather advisory. One quick check to the outdoor thermometer on the porch shows that it's nearing ten degrees, and might dip even lower. Regardless, Jamie feels like there's an inward itch that he just can't scratch, and it's making him completely restless. Either he does what he has to do, or it's practically guaranteed that he's not going to be able to sleep at all.

Begrudgingly, he slips on his heaviest coat, transferring the ornament to one of its pockets. Then, he puts on a pair of thick gloves, his best scarf, a black knit beanie, and heavy winter boots. Sure, he feels a bit like the kid from 'A Christmas Story', in that putting his arms down is becoming a chore, but he'd rather have that than freeze to death out there. He gives the living room a quick glance-over to make sure Sophie hasn't somehow been spying on him from some outrageous position. When he's certain that she isn't, and there isn't a single noise elsewhere in the house, he braves the cold and leaves.

Outside, it's not snowing, but it's just as cold as he thought. The snow that's already fallen now has a frozen crust, which cracks when he walks over it, almost as if he's stepping on a sheet of glass. The sky is gloriously clear, and even with the city lights, he can make out a few constellations. His breath, even muffled by the threads of the scarf, is still visible when he breathes out. He tries to walk as as briskly as possible, making sure to dodge the patches of ice here and there. Even with all the care he takes, he slips on three of them (once nearly tripping headfirst into a snowbank) before he finally reaches the dirt road leading up to the pond.

The walk allows him to sort his thoughts out a little more, specifically why he felt such a rampant need to _go_. He feels pretty ridiculous about all of it, from leaving this late to not really considering just calling Jack so Jamie didn't have to walk this far just to give him some stupid ornament from a tourist shop. To be fair, though, he _did_consider it a little, but he hasn't even seen Jack in almost a whole year. It's made him puzzle over what's been keeping the spirit away, but like he's told himself in the past, it's not really his place to interfere.

So, there's that, but he still can't reason out why he's doing this. Logically, he could have waited until morning, or even better, Christmas. And yeah, he already knew he couldn't wait. But why exactly _couldn't_he? Why did he suddenly have all the energy of the Tooth Fairy and just as much need to leave? It frustrates him enough that he kicks a stray piece of ice sticking up from the ground, so that it skids a little bit along the gravel before breaking into tiny shards. Then, he pauses, watching the ice break, and frowns, more to himself than to the ice.

"This is stupid," he says quietly, mentally kicking himself. He should turn around, go right back home and forget that this ever happened. Maybe he should just put the ornament up on the tree and make the excuse that he got it for his family and not for... well, Jack, as if Jack even needed an ornament.

"What is he even going to use it for?" he asks himself rather harshly, digging his hands into his pockets and feeling the inconspicuous paper bag brush against his gloves. He berates himself, and finally makes himself turn back around toward Burgess. However, as soon as he does, the wind kicks up, despite having been completely still before. It almost feels like it's pushing him toward the pond, insisting that he turns around. Jamie does so, but doesn't move forward. He just looks around for any sign of the spirit who might have been responsible. However, there's nothing other than thick, dark forest, and high banks of snow.

Quietly, he continues into the forest, still mulling it over in his head. At the very least, and what he eventually convinces himself that he'll do, he'll just come up to the pond, leave the ornament on some low tree branch for Jack to find later, and then book it back home as fast as he can. At least he'll get it out of his system that way, and might actually get enough sleep in the long run that he'll actually be awake for his family's traditional pre-Christmas breakfast tomorrow morning.

As expected, the pond and the area around it are completely empty. The water is covered in a sheen of thick ice, gleaming in the light of a full moon. For a moment, Jamie pauses, just taking in the atmosphere. It's oddly ambient, what with the wind hissing through the trees. Everything is cast in a calm, pale glow. He looks up at the moon, strangely huge and bright, as if it's somehow pointing directly at Jamie. He thinks about what Jack told him about the moon, about how the Man in the Moon talked to him long ago, about how he still talks to the other guardians. It's strange, standing here now, because Jamie feels as though somehow, some way, the moon is trying to talk to him, too.

However, he shakes it off, trying not to get too caught up in it all. He's here for a reason, after all. So, he scans the area, even in the darkness, until he sees a suitable branch on a young pine tree. It's dusted in snow so that it looks postcard-perfect. Jamie walks up to it and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the bag. It's folded up, with a single piece of tape sealing it. Carefully, he pulls off the tape, reaches in, and pulls out the ornament.

In the moonlight, somehow, it looks different. The glitter on it appears to shine a little brighter, even in comparison to the fluorescent lights of the shop. It looks even more like a snowflake than what the artist probably intended, and for what ever reason, Jamie's struck by it. He holds it, the thread it's suspended from twisted between his fingers. It slowly sways back and forth in the wind, shimmering as it moves. For a minute, Jamie suddenly feels immensely proud of it, and in the back of his head, he wishes Jack was actually here.

Again, he shakes it off. It's getting annoying, how caught up in this he's becoming. He blames it on the late hour, or the walk, or the frigid temperature. So, he puts the ornament on the branch, staring at it for just a second more before he buries his nose in his scarf and turns around. "Gonna freaking get frostbite at this rate," he murmurs.

"What's that about frostbite?"

Jamie nearly gasps at Jack's voice, and pivots so quickly that he almost falls over. He steadies himself and looks up at a massive oak tree, finding Jack sitting as content as a cat on one of its enormous branches. He almost blends in with the whole scene, so it wouldn't be surprising if he had been there the whole time. Gracefully, Jack jumps down to the ground, landing soundlessly on the snow. He balances his staff across his shoulders, wrists dangling limply over it as he languidly walks forward, his eyes on the ornament.

"J-Jack!" Jamie manages to gasp out, still a little dizzy from turning so fast. "I didn't know you were here!" As soon as he says it, Jamie feels extraordinarily stupid. Of course Jack was here. Jamie wouldn't have come to the pond in the first place if it wasn't the place Jack frequented the most. He finds himself becoming a little flushed, wishing to recant his exclamation.

It doesn't seem to strike Jack as outright hilarious, but he _does_smirk. He stands beside Jamie, tilting his head at the sight of the ornament, eyes following it as it continues to sway in the breeze. "I thought you had a tree of your own," Jack jokes, removing one hand from his staff to tap at the ornament. Jamie sees the tiniest amount of frost build up on it before it melts away.

"Yeah, well," Jamie starts, and then falls silent. How is he supposed to explain all this without sounding even more like an idiot? He bites down on his bottom lip behind his scarf, trying to think of the right explanation.

Already, Jack's turned to stare at him, blue eyes practically glowing in the moonlight. He's looking at Jamie expectantly, complete with a quirked grin. "Your house get too full of decorations? Did Sophie go on an arts-and-crafts binge?"

"Igotitforyouasapresent," Jamie says so quickly that he's pretty sure it's unintelligible. Evidently, it was, as Jack's now staring at him in confusion, his grin faltering as he seems to try to decode it. For the umpteenth time that night, Jamie kicks himself mentally. "I got it for you as a present," he repeats, much slower this time. "I don't know why. It just seemed to... fit, I guess?"

The confused stare doesn't falter, and Jamie briefly wonders if it's possible to break a spirit's brain just by one stupid sentence. Jamie might end up being the only human in history who ever managed. Then, the confusion starts to wane, and Jack frowns, which causes a sinking, cold feeling in the pit of Jamie's stomach. Jack's eyes flicker back to the ornament, and then return to Jamie. "...Why?" is all Jack says.

"I don't know," Jamie admits. He stares down at his boots, at the powdered snow now drifting over them. "I just haven't seen you in awhile, and I wondered if maybe I did something wrong, or if I was too old now to be around you." He stops himself immediately before he can finish his thought. Honestly, he didn't know about that until now, and why he suddenly had this cascade of word vomit is beyond him. Instantly, as soon as his statement is out in the open, he finds himself either wanting to run back to Burgess as fast as he can, or curl up in the snow and pretend he doesn't exist. In the end, he doesn't do either. He just stands there, slightly ashamed of himself.

He expects that Jack's mad at him, or that he'll disappear and go to some rooftop in Russia and never come back. Part of him thinks Jack will just say that Jamie's right. What he doesn't expect is the hand that settles on his left shoulder, an oddly comfortable weight given the circumstances. Jamie dares to bring his eyes back up to meet Jack's, and he almost gasps at the sight of Jack smiling at him.

"Jamie Bennett, you're ridiculous," Jack says, moving his hand from Jamie's shoulder to ruffle the boy's hair.

"Y-you sound like Sophie," Jamie says shakily, attempting to smile.

Then, Jack draws him into a hug so quickly that this time, Jamie actually _does_gasp. It takes him a second to realize what's going on, and then slowly, he returns it. Nothing really makes sense right then, but Jamie's not unhappy about it. In fact, it's the best he's felt all season.

When Jack finally pulls away, his hands still rest on Jamie's shoulders, his staff since propped up against the branches of the pine tree. The guardian looks oddly pleased. "I didn't leave because you did anything wrong," he explains. "I was just busy, that's all."

Jamie blushes, much so against his will, and lowers his head a little. "I figured."

"I tried to see you," Jack continues. "But every time I tried, something else would come up. Kinda problematic. Though, at least we're here now, right?"

"Yeah," Jamie agrees. Then, he gets that sensation again, as though the moon is focusing on him again, watching him. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he's suddenly caught up again, transfixed by Jack and the way the moonlight catches the silver in his hair, or the strange snowflake pattern in his eyes. It reminds him him of the ornament, and he immediately looks over at it, the way the light still dances off of it.

It's sudden, and Jamie isn't sure why he does it, or where in the world he got the moxie to attempt it, but he turns his head back toward Jack, and then leans forward and presses his lips against the spirit's. At first, he expects Jack to freeze up, to be all surprised and unmoving, like how people in the movies are with first kisses. However, Jack does something far different. He kisses Jamie back as though he expected it all along. Jack pulls him close again, his lips cold as snow against Jamie's, the rest of him just as chilled, so that Jamie shivers when he's pressed up against the guardian. What surprises Jamie most of all is how _right_this feels. It feels like every question he's had lately has been answered, and it's the most unusual kind of relief he's ever felt.

It feels like an eternity and a half when they finally separate, both gasping, lips tinged pink, looking at each other in shock. Even Jack seems a little surprised, but his expression fades back into contentment. "Sorry about that," he says, sounding practically breathless.

"N-no, don't be," Jamie stutters back, still trying to get his bearings. Then, he shakes his head, mildly perplexed. "Why are you apologizing anyway?"

Jack laughs, and it's that bell-like sound that Jamie's grown to love. The spirit looks all the world like some lovestruck teenager, which is strange considering he's existed for literally centuries. One might think he'd be a little more eloquent, but he's not. "I have no idea," he says at last, and he appears to be completely happy with being clueless.

Jamie can't help but kiss him again, and this time, they have a little more finesse. It's as if they've been this comfortable with each other all along, and when Jamie thinks about it, they have been. He wonders if it was just a matter of time before something like this happened, and as soon as he thinks of that, all of Sophie's pestering makes sense.

It's the combined cold of winter and Jack himself that cuts them off. Otherwise, Jamie believes they could go on for hours. Even with all his layers, he finds himself freezing, and with a giddy laugh (giddy; that's a new one to him), he apologizes. "Sorry. I think if we keep going like this, I'm gonna-"

"Get frostbite?" Jack finishes for him, and the smile that's plastered on his face is downright ridiculous.

"Oh god, you actually said it."

Both of them break into laughter at that, and Jamie can't help but feel almost dizzy at the sensation. He's in love. Yeah, he's in love with a snow spirit, and a guardian at that, and, if you want to get technical, a figure straight out of storybooks. But at this point, he doesn't care. The only thing he thinks about is how happy he is that he decided to give his present to Jack tonight.

_From: Sophie Bennett_  
_1:36 AM_

_i don't think i have to ask where you are. ;)_

How does she know? She had to have been asleep. He didn't see her, and he knows that he _looked_for her. Jamie fires back a text about keeping her nose out of his business, and as soon as he sends it, he regrets it. It's just going to confirm her suspicions. She's too good at this guessing game thing.

_From: Sophie Bennett  
1:38 AM_

_OH MY GOD JAMIE BENNETT YOU FINALLY DID IT DIDN'T YOU_

He reads it, and he can literally hear her shouting in the back of his head. He's became way too fine-tuned to his sister. When he finally leaves for college and gets a dorm or apartment, he's probably still going to hear her. He types back that he doesn't know what she means. Then, he deletes that, because that's just catering to her assumptions. He can't make this worse, even though he's not exactly feeling bad about it. Not at all.

So, he types that he didn't do anything other than take a walk, and he sends that feeling pretty confident that he's bested her somehow. Or, at least, he feels confident for all of two seconds, because there's no human way to best her in anything like this. He probably should just stop texting her altogether.

_From: Sophie Bennett  
1:39 AM_

_omg. i can't even. I CAN'T._

She can't what? He asks her that, because he's honestly confused. He gets an answer not even thirty seconds later.

_From: Sophie Bennett  
1:40 AM_

_I. CAN'T. ;w;_

Yep. He gives up. He can't decode her weird language, what ever it is. Worst of all, she knows. She's never going to let him live this down. Oddly enough, he's kind of alright with that.


End file.
